


You Belong to Me

by OneLetteredWonder



Series: Demon Trilogy [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angst, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneLetteredWonder/pseuds/OneLetteredWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the High Demon of Torture is truly Ivan's dream job. All the pain, all the blood, all the breaking, all the screams. He lives for it. Even as a demon, the body can only go so long before it needs to rest. Sleep is last thing Ivan ever wants to do. Dreams of the past are the worst form of torture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"Come on Ivan!" Ivan glances up from his grip on the rocks. He's exploring around the woodland area behind his house. He snuck out his window when he could hear his father snoring to run into the trees and met up with his only friend. They jumped over branches and muddy marshes. Now he's doing his best to climb up the small rocky hill. It's hard for his seven year old arms to hold him up. He's just a little chubby and it makes it hard for him to be running for so long. It doesn't help that his friend is the most hyperactive person he's ever met._

_"I'm trying!" He calls out. He bites his lip and stretches up his hand. He finds a stable rock and looks down to his feet, placing them on secure ledges. He doesn't particularly like the grassy mossy town he now lives in. He overheats easily in the temperature. His father dragged him away from their tiny home in Russia and Ivan didn't want to leave. He felt at home in the cold tundra. His dad hit him for crying. His friend is the only one at school who talks to him. He comforted Ivan when he saw him crying in the corner of the playground._

_"You're gunna miss it!" His friend teases. Ivan lets out a small whimper. He's never been good with climbing. He's not agile. He holds tight to a rock and wraps his oversized scarf around his neck once more. It's his third wrap around but the scarf still hangs loosely on his shoulders. He does his best to keep the ends from dragging. He got the scarf from his mother. Sweetest woman ever according to his old neighbors. She had sewn him the scarf before she gave birth to him. She never got to give it to him. Ivan is sure his father hates him for killing his wife. It hadn't been his fault. He does everything for his father. Everything he can. Making breakfast, cleaning the house, pulling weeds, staying out his way. Anything he can think of, Ivan does. He's always partially scared his father will hit him. The man has only done so a few times, but it always leaves a stinging mark._

_"Jeez come on!" Ivan turns his head up to the sky. Standing on the edge of the cliff is his only friend in the world. Another boy, smaller than Ivan in height and size. Many times his friend has told Ivan how they belong to each other. It makes him happy to have someone he can call his. Ivan gulps, taking another step higher. His friend lets out a laugh and kneels down. They hold their hand down for Ivan to take. Ivan smiles widely, accepting the help. His friend gives a mighty tug, letting out a groan. Ivan scrambles to the top. They lean at the edge of the cliff, breathing heavily, dorky grins on both their faces. Ivan smiles brightly to the boy. His friend has the bluest eyes he's ever seen. Ivan does live for the moments he can see those eyes shining at him. His friend jumps to his feet, pulling Ivan up with him. He doesn't let go of Ivan's hand as he pulls him through the trees. Ivan hides his bashful smile in the layers of his scarf._

_"There it is!" His friend rushes forward. Ivan lets out a surprised noise at the tugging._

_"Ah! Wait! Slow down! Fr-"_

_"Ivan look!" His friend yanks him to the ground. Ivan stumbles with grace, landing on his knees next to his friend. The other boy is pointing to the sky with starlight in his eyes. Ivan is breathing heavily. He rubs at his nose and follows his friend's finger up. He gasps, a wide smile breaking across his face. His friend lead him to the other edge of the cliff overlooking the stream. There are no lights and the stars are brighter than he's ever seen. Ivan loves the sky. He loves all the colors it can turn. He turns to face his friend and they're already looking at him. They squeeze their hands at the same time. Ivan smiles at him. His friend laughs, his blue eyes sparkling. Ivan giggles. He's so happy. Happiness is so rare for him in his house. Only at times like this, where he can be himself with his friend does he allow himself to smile._

_"Can I kiss you Ivan?" His giggles stop. He blinks at his friend. Their face is serious, eyes staring at him hopefully. Ivan can feel the heat coming to his cheeks. His friend squeezes his hand again, this time tighter._

_"What? But you-" Ivan stumbles over his words. He takes his free hand and pulls up his scarf to hide his face. His friend shifts to be closer to him. Ivan stares at their linked hands._

_"Please?" His friend asks quietly. Ivan glances up at him. His friend looks worried. Ivan gulps. He nods lightly. His friend releases a breath and smiles at him. Ivan manages to smile softly back. His friend places their foreheads together. Ivan's heart is pounding. He lowers his gaze away from his friend's shining eyes to the ground. They lean down. Their lips are so close. He only has a second to inhale before-_

This is exactly why he doesn't sleep. Ivan jolts straight up from the ground. His breathing is heavy. The blood rushes from his head. He claws at his scarf covered neck. He yanks the cloth down and moves his hands up to his head. He digs his nails into his scalp and drags them down. He doesn't make a sound as the skin breaks seeping blood into his light colored hair. He releases a slow breath. The pain is a welcome distraction from his nightmare. He always dreams when he sleeps, which is why he chooses not to. He didn't mean to fall asleep in the first place. He had just overworked himself, a simple mistake really. The torture he enacted on his most recent of residents took a lot out of him as well. Hanging torture is always difficult. His body felt exhausted. He just meant to lay down and refresh himself. Then he closed his eyes and sleep took him.

He crawls to his feet. He can hear the screams of the other residents through the door. A smile slips onto his face. He feels an odd sense of tranquility. His emotions are out of balance. He knows. He's known for a while. He finds enjoyment out of the worst things and rages at the smallest. He really doesn't care about it though. He's happy just the way he is. Happy where he is.

He arches his back, spreading his wings out to stretch. He rolls his neck and snaps his fingers. His bloody clothes melt away and are replaced by an outfit identical to it, only clean. He taps his toes to the ground, digging his boot tips into the earth. He pulls at the collar of his semi loose t-shirt. His scarf is draped around his shoulders like always. Since his growth spurt it no longer drags across the ground even when only wrapped around once. The ends flutter behind him as he walks out of his room. The pathway to the elevator outside his room is lined with broken glass. It crunches underneath his feet.

He lifts a hand to cover his yawn on the way up to the workroom. His hand rubs against his horns. They are dark grey, sticking out of his skull above his ears then curling down around the appendages. The points are facing forward, resting in line with his jaw. He's cut his fingers on them many times before when they were still growing in. Plenty of more times after that for not being used to them in his face area. The only way he would cut himself on them now is by force. Much like he's doing now. He's dragging his thumb across the point, a shallow cut slicing into the pad. He licks up the blood, sealing his finger in the process.

The elevator dings. He steps out into the rushing workroom. Demons are running about with their hands full of files. A few demons are tapping angrily at papers and screaming while others are just passing by dropping things on desks. Ivan passes by the mail slots. He picks up the files there listed with his name. More appropriately, his title. Ivan folds the papers under his arm and heads to the big office near the back. The windows are darkened. He giggles and knocks on the door. There's a high pitched squeak from inside. Ivan giggles again and opens the door.

"Morning sir," He greets sweetly. There are two demons by the desk in the back. One is sitting on the desk, blushing furiously to match the shade of his hair. His short black horns the same color of his wings. They are the same length as his arm span. Not that big. The other is standing in between the red haired demon's legs. His hair is white, with black horns jutting out towards the ceiling. He smirks at Ivan over his shoulder. His wings are large, spread wide they would touch the edges of the room. The largest, and thickest wings in the entirety of Hell.

"Morning Ivan, setting about work today?" Francis, the large winged demon says. He runs his tongue over his pointed teeth. The demon on the desk puts his hands to his face.

"Yes. Morning to you to Arthur," Ivan giggles. The red haired demon waves to him with a grimace. Ivan shuts the door softly behind him, heading to his own work. The demons in his path scurry off. It brings a smile to his face. His tail flickers back and forth behind him. The elevator dings open as he gets closer. The small demon inside nearly drops his things upon seeing Ivan. He slips out as quickly as possible. Ivan giggles once more and steps into contraption. Once the door closes, his smile falls.

His hand tightens on their hold of the files and he grits his teeth. He shakes his wings out and takes a deep breath. He doesn't mind not being King. He got over the anger of that years ago. It had bugged him of course. Gilbert, the mischievous bastard couldn't hold Hell together. Ivan thought him improper to rule. No order or any sense of logic. That bugged Ivan more than anything. It had been difficult enough to get his torture rooms set up but then the residents got lead to the wrong areas. It had been torture for everyone working. Some things got fixed but most of the changes came with Matthew. He put some sense to Hell, giving thoughts and plans to make it run smoother. He made everyone's jobs easier. He's the one who fixed the layout of Hell, making it easier for the demons to get to where they need to go.

Ivan likes Matthew. He's sweet and patient and manages to keep Gilbert out of the way of everything else. Oh, and his screams are delicious. He hums in pleasure at the memory. He got to torture the Fallen Angel for a year. A whole year to hear him beg and plead and yell. It had been the highlight of his decade. He had been so excited to torture him. He never took a break from hurting the angel. Matthew only had a year in the physical torture rooms and Ivan didn't want to waste a second of it. Gilbert had been mad of course. To see the King so undone and angry made Ivan smile. Finally, the King showed some semblance of care for his empire. That and it felt like he had tortured Gilbert at the same time. The pained look on his face when he found Matthew face down in a pool of his own blood had been amazing.

He's not upset that Francis became the new King. He also got over that years ago. Of course he had been furious at first. Some demon who hasn't been there as long as him, that has been tortured by him, on the throne? Ivan nearly tore out every tooth in someone's mouth because of it. It didn't make sense to him. Gilbert should have won that fight. He's been keeping his position for years. He had to be strong. What did Francis have over the King? Nothing, according to angry Ivan. Being able to think about it, Francis's wings had been bigger at the time, and now for sure they are stronger. Francis has been King for decades now. With him holding the reigns, Hell actually runs smoother. Ivan likes that very much. There are more workers now, meaning he gets to spend more time with his residents.

He likes Francis too. He had to torture him once upon a time, though he and the others took turns. Francis had the longest punishment out of them all. Years upon years of punishment and training. Ivan is still a little in the dark as to why, but he's put the pieces together well enough. The only one he's ever heard of having a punishment as long is Gilbert. Once Francis got out of torture and into the working field, he and Ivan did not get along at first. What could Ivan have done? His scarf had gone missing. It's not his fault no one would tell him where it went no matter how many of them he hurt. He could barely feel the dull ache in his wings as he put demon's heads to the floor.

Francis stepped up and pointed out his wing size. Ivan at the time had been in a lower demon position. He worked with simple punishments, people who didn't do much bad things to go to the higher ups. Ivan tortured them all the same anyway. He got in trouble for that sometimes, but the higher ups never really tried to stop him. They had a comparison after his little fiasco, Gilbert cackled the whole time. His wings grew bigger and stronger than a demon in a high spot. Ivan became the fourth in charge. While he liked the idea, his scarf did not turn up until later that day. He knew Francis took it immediately by the frilly note. He did say thank you of course. He's not a barbarian. He may have broken Francis's legs in ten spots after, but that's not the point.

He got to know Francis when he personally took it upon himself to reset the bones every time they settled wrong. He may have been the one setting the bones wrong but that's just details. The demon had been an angel once upon a time, but still a whore. Ivan didn't really care. Leaving Heaven is supposed to be a big deal. Ivan doesn't know why. He's never been to Heaven. He's heard from Francis and Matthew that it's a place of clouds. That sounded nice to him. He's always liked the sky. The changing of time bringing the only color to his human life. Kind of ironic that he now stays underground and the only thing above him is a rock ceiling.

The part that doesn't sound nice is the rules. The Fallen Angels he's talked to, all three of them, said that the rules are one of the biggest factors to their leaving. Gilbert couldn't be as free, Matthew had been ignorant for most of his angel life, Francis just couldn't handle the way they wanted him to play nice. He hasn't talked to Arthur about his reason for leaving. The red haired demon just seems to always be busy. Ivan of course could have asked him when he had been going through his punishment, but Arthur couldn't really talk with his lips sewn shut now could he. If people wish to leave, then it really couldn't have been all that nice.

Ivan went to Hell right from the start, back when Gilbert recently claimed the throne. The place had been a mess. No one knew what to do. That bugged Ivan a lot. He felt almost disappointed. He hoped to get his punishment over with as soon as possible, but it seemed waiting had been a part of that. He sat as a human, a vague soul amongst the masses in the waiting room with the others. He hated it. So many people. He could probably have them punished by himself better than Hell could in the time it took for him to be called. The greeter had been nice enough, though Ivan rolled his eyes when the demon clarified twice he's Hell. That had been apparent, so he didn't react. The greeter thought him to be in shock.

He couldn't help but smile at his punishment. 50 years of physical torture. That's all? The demon greeting him changed his sentence on the spot because of it. Ivan almost laughed then. Some demon guided him to a red hallway and to a room with the numbers 329 written on it. The demon inside waiting for him strapped him to a chair and carved into his skin. Cuts spanned every inch of his body. He looked like a walking tic tac toe board. He smiled through it all. This demon worked well with knives. Slicing his skin intricately and making him into a walking canvas. Ivan nearly admired the work. He could never be that careful with someone. The demon became angered by Ivan's lack of screaming. He cut deeper and deeper over the years. None of it changed for Ivan.

Frustrated by his smiling, the demon requested Ivan to be moved up a room. So he left room 329 and moved to room 511. He liked the demon running this room. They hung his hands from the ceiling and left him alone for a few weeks. His arms stopped feeling in the process. He didn't sleep the whole time, watching his cuts slowly heal. That's one of his favorite things about the torture rooms. Near the end of every human day, the body goes through a mass re-healing process. So unless there is something physically blocking a wound, it will close and be almost as good as new. His cuts are healed by the time the demon comes back. Ivan learns the value of whips. They are good long distance devices. They rip the flesh and tear it off. Some have pointed ends, others have glass sewn into the seams. Ivan swears, even though he couldn't see it, he could feel his spine exposed. The demon left him again with barely any skin on his back to fester. That patterned continued on.

When Ivan didn't scream for him, he got moved up again. Room 653 became his new home. Here the demon taught him how to break bones. He hissed in pain for these. He never broke a bone before, but it got easier as time went on. At one point when the demon got increasingly furious with him, he broke every bone in Ivan's body and left him. Fingers, toes, ribs, skull. Ivan's eye could only see red. The bones healed wrong. So they all had to be broken again. Ivan started laughing to himself on the third day of loneliness. He swears for a second he saw fear in his torturer's eyes when they came in.

In room 772 he learned the value of blunt objects. The demon tied him to a pole in the center of the room and beat him. She started with her own assaults, punching and kicking with everything she had. Of course her gloves and boots had metal inside them. Nothing hurts pride more than just being beaten like an animal. She used bats and crow bars. The pipe knocked half his teeth out when she swung at his face. He got a literal sense of seeing stars. In a daze he told the demon she had a good hit. After being beaten into subconscious, he changed rooms.

The demon in room 848 he really liked. Not only did she talk to him, she taught him. She had been tall with long brown hair. She wore a conical hat. She's the only one who took his scarf off. He whimpered in protest but she assured him it would be untouched on the floor. He believed her. His scarf had already been doused in blood, but the gesture had been nice. She told him all about saws, and even explained to him something about the knives used during his first decade of torture. He smiled and laughed with her, and she laughed with him. She told him all the different ways to use a saw, even let him hold a few. She let him choose the saw she used first. The amputation of his lower leg went slowly. She stalled after almost every cut to ask him how he felt. Near the bone he started laughing. He couldn't help it. When she cut through the bone he bit his lip and groaned. She seemed pleased with that. She left his leg on the table, just pressed together, so it would weld back together during the night. Ivan had every limb severed at one point, just a torso and a head. She became less pleased when his noises never got louder than the one he first let out.

It had been room 999 that he broke. Every decade he moved up a room. The demons grit their teeth in annoyance because he didn't scream and he didn't cry like they wanted him to. This demon had been nice to him as well. His room looked fairly clean too. The demon had him lay on the ground and hold a weight over his head. Then gave him a shot. He explained that the shot would contort his muscles making it harder and harder for him to hold the weight up. The thing the demon forgot to mention is how it affected the mind muscle as well. At the start of every human week, he would receive a shot. It took only a few months for Ivan to stop seeing the weight as a chunk of metal. It turned into different things before his very eyes. Sometimes the weight would talk to him and call him names, but his arms hurt so he couldn't throw it. Sometimes it turned into the demons he saw. The thing that made him go cold though is when it turned into the face of his father after a few years of holding the weight above his face.

At first he just smiled twistedly. He knew it couldn't be real. It started talking, starting insulting, started saying the things that meant a beating would come. Ivan began to scream. With his arms hurting and his mind already mush, he couldn't tell reality from the dream. He almost felt like he could feel the beating on him when the insults continued. The whispers made him cry. The dark whispers of what would happen when Ivan went too far. His mind couldn't take it. The weight fell and Ivan's skull cracked. Again.

When he finally woke up, the King sat at his side with a file and a bored expression. The King cackled loudly, explaining the rut he put the physical torture demons in. He tsked, telling Ivan that he should have been in some mental torture from the beginning. Ivan simply blinked at him when the King called him a 'sick little shit'. So even though his 100 years of physical torture ended, he went through another ten in mental torture. He test ran the ghost room. He got to see all of his victims crying and pleading and all of their families crying and pleading. Ivan got a break and smiled through the five years until the machine broke. He didn't mind. If he didn't stop when they begged the first time, why would he be remorseful hearing them beg a second time. It had been like music.

Walking through solitary confinement however, did a number on him. With nothing but pitch blackness surrounding him at all times, he did a lot of thinking. Having his victim's images fresh in his mind gave him something to keep himself busy. He killed quite a few people. 31 to be exact. He stole them away, regular people, people that blend in. Sometimes when he felt adventurous he would do research and steal someone who hurt their families and their kids. He always hurt those ones the longest. He killed them all over an open drain to catch the blood should any spill out. Mostly he did suffocation. It's easier to clean up and he can feel as they struggle to their last breath.

Solitary hurt him more, being able to think freely like that. He broke down in laughter a few times at the ridiculousness of it all. The last time he laughed, he started to cry. He tore at his hair and his arms. After so long of avoiding the thoughts, he could only think of his father charging at him with his fist in the air and a beer bottle in the other. Ivan cried for hours. He hated. He hated everything that father put into his head. He screamed loudly into the empty room. All at once, everything started to burn. His body felt like a match. He writhed along the ground, twisting curling in on himself. He managed to get to his knees to fold himself together and hold in the anguish.

A spiking pain went up his spine. He curled his fists and banged them on the ground, twitching as his back convulsed. He hissed when the skin broke. He could feel the bones slicing through his flesh. They crawled out of his back like spiders. Ivan felt the fat part of a bone settle just at the surface of the break. His shirt laid in tatters around him. He breathed heavily, the blood soaked wings covering his back. The pain didn't subside long. Another pain shot down his spine and a knife like point burst from below. His new tail laid against the ground limply.

He laid with his face on the ground for hours. He managed to stumble to his feet though. The wings threw him a little off balance, unused to their weight. He blinked into the darkness, trying to clear the spots form his eyes. He widened his wings as best he could. They felt sore like they've been used for days. They reached to his arm span. He folded them close around him. He felt safer inside. He took a step and immediately had to stop. He grabbed his head. He thrashed around. He slipped on his own blood, falling to the ground. He flopped to his knees and pushed his forehead to the floor. It helped the pain, but not by much.

Once more, Ivan could feel his skull fracturing. He could feel it bulging underneath his palms. He grit his teeth and groaned. His scalp tore and he felt points digging into his skin. He removed his hands and scratched across the ground. He could feel the nubs growing. They split his skin on either side of his head and curled back, the points setting just behind his ears. He went to clench his jaw but his teeth pulsed. He snarled. When the pain stopped for the second time, he sighed.

He closed his mouth and his teeth scratched against his lips now in jagged points. They felt odd and he had trouble finding the right way to shut his mouth. He pushed to all fours slowly. Blood rushed within his veins. He brought his hands up to his head and jerked them back down. The new horns on his head cut his palms. He brought them close to lick the wound. The cuts stung and healed instantly. Ivan took a slow breath. He started at the top, feeling the inflamed skin around the base of the horns. He dragged two fingers down, feeling the shape. His head started to feel light. He put it to the ground and passed out instantly.

He woke up in a bed, a paper next to him telling where he had to report. He fumbled around Hell on his own. Some demons scrunched up their noses at him. One demon stopped to help him, Gilbert. It's then that Ivan noticed two things. Their size difference, Gilbert stood a few inches shorter than him. It made Ivan wonder how he managed to be King. Then he noticed their wing difference. No one he's seen so far had wings like Gilbert's. None as big and none as strong looking. He almost questioned it but Gilbert ushered him off.

He followed the instructions back to his original room when he first started being tortured. From there he spent a year with each of his of tortures, learning their tricks and their specialties. They had been nicer to him, more accommodating and willing to pause in the middle of their work to explain exactly why they did what they did. Ivan sat by, watching with wide eyes and excitment. He could hear screaming and blood and he felt alive. He got to spend another year with his favorite torturer. He had actually been sad when she moved on to reincarnation. After he took her position anyway.

He told Francis all about his time in torture and even before in life. Francis is the only one who knows. He doesn't know why he told the incubus, but he never told another soul. Francis didn't judge him either, saying consoling words even though Ivan didn't need them. Ivan doesn't like to admit it, but telling someone made him feel better. The conversation had been light despite the dark undertones. He started at the beginning due to Francis's insistence, and his pretty little yell after Ivan snapped a bone. He giggled and told about his mother. From the details he heard, she had long flowing hair and a smile like sunflowers. She had the kindest heart, the perfect one to put up with his father.

He told about how she died giving birth to him. It actually hadn't been his fault like his father convinced him so many years ago. His mother had high blood pressure, making it more likely for her system to overuse blood and lose it quickly. His father had been devastated. They could only stay in Russia for a few years until his father couldn't handle the memories. They moved to America. Ivan hated it. The weather made him cringe. He missed the cold. He had been six when his father first hit him. Ivan had been crying about wanting to go home. The hit startled him, sending him to the ground. His dad left him alone to curl up on himself. His father left him alone often. It's a miracle Ivan even survived infancy.

He skipped over what he considers the most important person in his human life. Francis- no. No one, deserves to know about that. They are not worthy to know about them. So he talked about his growing years. Ivan tells how he did everything for his father. Any house chore you could think of Ivan did twice a week at least. He tried so hard. So hard to be good enough for his father's liking. Nothing he ever did made his father happy. So Ivan payed for it. The older he got, the more brutal the beatings got. His father drowned himself in alcohol and almost drowned Ivan in the sink. He didn't tell anyone about it. He wore long sleeves and hid all of his scars, all of his cigarette burns, all of the bruises. His father liked to give Ivan bruises. It's one of the first compliments he gave.

Ivan bulked up a little during his preteen years. That made his father mad. Ivan no longer looked like a pudgy little kid. He cut his hair with a pair of scissors. That also made his father angry. Ivan wore his scarf. That made his father furious. He choked Ivan with the piece of cloth, making him pass out. When Ivan came to, his father had done the unspeakable. Or at the time, in the middle of doing the unspeakable. Ivan screamed and fought and clawed at his father's face, trying to get him away from his body. He didn't like the touches and he didn't like the feeling. It felt invasive and overpowering, like his body no longer belonged to him. In that moment, it didn't.

It only happened once, and Ivan takes little satisfaction in finding out after talking to one of the demons in charge of sexual displeasure, that yes, his father had come through Hell, and yes, he got what he deserved more over what Ivan had done to him. Ivan found out why his father did what he did. Ivan looked like his mother, with his hair longer and scarf around his neck. His mom had been on the pudgy side too. Ivan blamed himself, as he did for everything else that went wrong in the house. He deserved it probably. He should have known better than to cut his hair or to make his father mad. Ivan felt stupid. He should have done something more to make his father happy. It's all his fault.

That's what he told himself. Everyday when his father came home and hit him at least once. He told himself he deserved it as he got down on his knees with tears in his eyes and his father wrapped a chain collar around his neck. He made Ivan get down on all fours and walked him around the house. He made Ivan walk in front of him, but he used a training collar that dug into his neck. So after every step, he pulled back, digging the prongs into Ivan's neck. That happened more than one.

Some collars had been normal, black or brown. The leather rubbed his neck raw. One had been a shock collar, but father's favorite had to be the spiked one. He got more extensive as Ivan grew. It seemed the stronger and bigger Ivan got, the longer his time wearing the collar would be. Another one his father liked had to be the thick chain one. He wrapped that one tight. Ivan took a chance and showed Francis the marks still there on his neck. Angry lines and pink dots scattered over the area. Francis didn't say anything. Ivan didn't want him to.

Ivan kept growing though. Health class saw to it that he had a place to work out and get stronger. He spent so many hours after school working out to find tension release from the life at home, and also to stall going there. His teachers said nothing. They knew nothing. Ivan told them nothing. Some girls he talked to once upon a time gave him relationship advice once, even though he didn't need it. He didn't like anyone. He did have the urge to possess a certain someone from his childhood like he always had. They left long ago. Not that he told Francis that.

The girls told him signs to watch out for in an abusive relationship. Ivan clenched his jaw tight. All those years. He went home and asked his dad about it immediately. It may not have been the smartest move. There would not have been a better time to ask. Except for maybe never. The moment the words left his lips his father snapped. He grabbed a chain out of nowhere and tried to wrap it around Ivan's neck. Ivan had grown however, and his father had weakened. Ivan pushed back for the first time. He started apologizing as soon as he had. His father lunged for him, punching him as hard as he could. Ivan screamed, then punched back. A sickening snap sounded out and his father screamed, holding his broken nose.

Ivan hid in his room. He stayed there listening to his father pound on the door screaming insults. How could he have done that. How could he have hurt his father. Why did it make him feel so alive. Ivan ran his fingers through his hair so much that he rubbed his scalp raw. He planned. He planted. He enacted. Just a day after he told a teacher his father had issues drinking, Ivan went home with a twitch in his hand. His father ordered him to get on his knees. Ivan said no. His father screamed. Ivan said no. His father came at him with a chain. Ivan fought back. He wrestled his father to the floor. He wrapped the chain around his neck. He pulled. His father screamed out. The more he screamed, the more Ivan smiled. Soon enough his father lay limp below him and Ivan laughed. He laughed so loudly. For the first time in years, since he sat at the edge of a cliff and looked at the stars, Ivan felt free.

He tied the man up to a chair and waited. He sat watching him with a smile on his face. When his father gained consciousness he threatened to kill Ivan when he got out of those chains. Ivan laughed. The only way his father would get out of those chains, is if Ivan let him out. He broke every finger with a bloodcurdling snap. Every scream his father let out relieved him more than it should have. He used one of the vodka bottles to smash into his father's face. He loved the yelling. It made him feel alive. He needed more. He didn't go to school for a day. He spent the whole time testing different ways making his father shriek. He sat for a full hour on the floor just looking at the bleeding face of his father with a smile.

The police came of course. A few days after Ivan left town. He changed his identity and changed his life. He moved from town to town and every time he heard a yell he smiled. He took some other people, he never did something as bad as his father though. He liked his chains. He strangled them all. He got himself a name on the media. He didn't care. He just liked hurting people. He did his job carefully. Took all the precautions. He never got cocky, he never made a mistake. He only got caught because he wanted to. He called the cops saying there's a murderer in the house, and he's talking on the phone.

Needless to say the police sent a squad. Ivan just walked out with his hands up, a chain around his blood splattered scarf, and a smile on his face. The trial ended quickly, he admitted to it all. He nearly burst out laughing in the courtroom when they told him he would get the electric chair. He sat on the chair biting his lip in excitement. Oh how it felt to die.

Francis stayed quiet when he finished talking. Ivan didn't need him to say anything. He's come to terms with his human life. He's doing a lot better now. Really.

Ivan twists his nose when the elevator opens. He walks down the purple lined hallway to the end of the path. His torture rooms are the very last few. The higher the room numbers, the higher the torture level. Ivan doesn't mind the walk at all. It makes him excited. He can hear all the screams of the other demons doing their jobs. He giggles. He loves his job. After he gained his higher up position after his rampage, his resident number grew. He had more people torture. He liked that a lot. It didn't take long for him to work up the ranks even more. He took his favorite demon's position in the high rooms as the number two in charge. She relinquished her job without a fuss and went straight to reincarnation.

It had been Francis that gave him the High Demon title. They tested his wings span against the old High Demon, but their wings could not measure up to the sheer strength of Ivan's. They are the third strongest in all of Hell. They are long, nearly touching the floor with their spikes. They have been like this for a few decades now. He likes them just fine. It really doesn't matter to him what title he has however. He gets to hurt someone either way. His new title does come with perks though. He gets to choose who to torture, and he has to deal with the paperwork of the other demons giving reports one what tools they need more of and how their victims are holding up. Ivan has no complaints. He doesn't feel the need to be King. He doesn't yearn for power. He just wants control, and he has plenty of that where he is right now.

He lifts his wings up to stretch them out before he locks himself in the torture rooms for a few hours. The rooms are smaller than he likes, but he understand why they can't be bigger. There's so little space in Hell already. He hums and opens the door. There's a man sitting in the chair bolted to the middle of the room. Ivan takes his file out, not bothered at all by the frightened look the human is giving him. This man locked his children in a room without food, and when they came out he broke their fingers for trying to steal. Ivan smiles. He glances over his shoulder at the human. They are shaking. Perfect. He drops their file to the small table and steps over to him. Chains are wrapped around his body holding him down tight. Ivan kneels down to look up at the human.

He giggles at their pain. The human begins to cry. Ivan had welcomed them to the room, told them to sit, and wrapped their body in chains. Then he left. This is the first time he's seen this human in a week. This is their first official torture session. Ivan stands back up again. He reaches behind him and ties his scarf up into a bow on his back like a twisted little present. He hums and spins around the room looking for his tool. He smiles wide when he spots a simple hammer on the wall. He takes it off the nails holding it up and wiggles it for the human to see. They are twitching more now, struggling against the chains. Ivan holds out his hand and clenches his fist tight. The chains shrink, making their hold tighter. The human whimpers.

Ivan kneels down in front of them once more. He takes their hand and flattens it against the arm of the chair. The human is starting to beg now. They whisper 'please' and 'don't' but Ivan doesn't listen. It's not his job to listen. He pulls a finger just past the edge of the arm rest. He holds it still just at the knuckle. He smiles up at the human. Without warning he smashes the single joint right at the bone with the hammer. The human screams out. Ivan waits for the pain to fully settle. Then he moves their hand over an inch, and does it again to another finger. At first Ivan had counted the number of times a human begged him to stop. After a while, he figured it didn't matter.

He breaks every little bone in their hands. He snaps their wrist too just for the fun of it. Their screams are more strained now, raw from all the yelling. Ivan is still smiling. They deserve to be hurt. He flips their file open once more. He raises an eyebrow at the note of a broken foot as well. He giggles out and smiles over at the pained human. They are crying, looking at him in terror. Ivan puts the small hammer back on the wall and hears the human sigh in relief. He bites his lip in amusement at the pained gasp they give when he grabs a giant mallet. He kicks their foot, a chain shooting out to hold the leg in place. Ivan lines up the hammer, and with a hefty swing, cracks it down on the human's foot. He shudders at the scream they let out. So much pain. He places the mallet back on the wall, picks up his files, and leaves without a word. He can hear them yelling for help on the other side of the door. No one will come for them.

He goes to the next room. He's humming again. This resident he doesn't like at all. He opens the door to creaking wood. The victim is chained down to a large table with his arms above his head, struggling to get free. It won't work. Ivan glances at his file to make sure it's the right person. Animal abuse and assault. He turns to the human, wiggling on the table. He ghosts his fingers over the bruises across their chest. Such pretty colors. He spins around and grabs the metal pipe he's been fond of recently. He polishes the metal just a bit to make it shine. The human is whimpering, already begging for it not to happen. Ivan giggles at them and brings the pipe down on their stomach. The flabby part makes odd noises while the human gurgles and lurches. Not much screaming. Ivan twists his nose. He takes a step to the side, higher up on the human's body. He brings the pipe down with a whack. Here the human yells out. Ivan does it again, a crack sounding out. Another rib broken.

They probably healed over night. That means they are weak today. So Ivan swings again, and again, waiting till every rib snaps. The human is choking out breathes. Maybe he punctured a lung in the process. Perfect. He giggles and lands the pipe one more time on their stomach for good measure. New bruises are sure to form, turning them black and blue once more. Ivan dances his fingers over their chest, pushing down hard. The human passes out. Ivan blows at his hair. So boring. He puts the pipe back and heads to the last room he will stop at for the day.

This one he enjoys quite a bit. He enters the room and claps to himself. The human is chained to the wall with their stomach pushed flush up against it. This human enjoyed hurting their siblings all throughout her life by scratching at them with her sharp nails. It's Ivan's job to return the favor. He drops his files to the table and stands behind her. She's crying silently. Ivan ghosts his finger over her back, tracing out the patterns he made yesterday with a sharp knife. He's not as good an artist as some, but what could he do? Blood kept getting in his way.

He rubs a hand down his arm. A chain materializes at his wrist. He pulls the end out, extending it to the ground and longer. He steps back six paces away from the girl. He twists the chain in his hand so he can reach the end. He rubs it between his fingers, causing the links to grow spikes. He drops it to the floor with a clang. The human sobs. Ivan smiles. He hasn't used a whip in a while. He holds the end still attached to his wrist tightly. With a sharp crack it sails forward and hits it mark. The girl groans, arching her back out at the pain. A long deep gash is now oozing across her skin. She's saying 'sorry' over and over again. Ivan doesn't know why she's apologizing. It's too late for that now. For an hour he throws the chain against her skin. Each one getting more and more forceful. Her yells die out as she can no longer keep her voice together. When she throws up to the side, Ivan stops, not wanting to smell it any longer. He closes the door behind him with a click, making a mental note to send in a cleaner.

The chain zips back into his arm, circling itself in the form of a tattoo on his upper shoulder. The marks made their debut during his breakdown when Francis stole his scarf. The chains appeared in his hands. The weight of them held perfect for him to throw them about and smash desks. His old favorite demon showed him her tattoo as well, a standard construction saw running down her calf. She said it's because that's his tool of choice. Ivan understood when he used them the next day on a resident. They felt natural to wrap around people or use to beat them with it. They swirl around his arms in tight coils. He likes them very much. They feel like friends, his constant companions. They obey him.

Ivan takes a deep breath once he gets to the elevator. He's a little angry today. He's no longer bugged by not being King. He likes the demons he interacts for the most part. Gilbert leaves something to be desired but he can manage. No. What really bugs Ivan out of it all is that both the Kings have someone. They both fell in love. Ivan just doesn't understand that. He doesn't want for someone. There's not a soul he likes in a romantic way. He never has. He's tried. A few people in his human days had crushes but the feelings he could never return. He never really questioned it. He didn't really want it to begin with.

It bugs him though. How did they both manage to find someone who would be with them for that long? Ivan just simply doesn't understand. What's the point of feeling? It's weak to show emotion like that. They made themselves so vulnerable by exposing their feelings. How could someone be in charge when they are too busy giving attention to someone else? It doesn't make sense. Ivan sighs. He's understood for a long time now he doesn't feel the way some do. He enjoys hurting others and he can't get his head wrapped around liking someone, let alone loving. The words just don't sit right in his stomach. He knows he's incapable of loving, but that's alright with him. He doesn't need the distraction. He doesn't need the feelings. He just wants to own someone.

The door dings and he steps inside. The demon next to him squeaks at his presence. Ivan glances to them, instantly recognizing them. He smiles widely at the demon. Their horns are short and black, a typicality in the lower level demons. His wings are small and not very thick. Ivan would know, he's broken them before.

"Toris how are you?" He asks with a giggle. He doesn't really care how the demon is doing but it's a pleasantry he knows is supposed to be said. He likes Toris very much. The demon begs and pleads and yells at the right times when being tortured. He's been under Ivan's 'care' for a century or so now. Until very recently, about four months ago when he asked to change to a new room. Ivan had been very upset by this. Toris is his favorite toy. How could he have wanted to go to some rookie demon for his torturing? He hated it, almost snapping uncontrollably when Francis told him he couldn't stop the demon's wishes. Luckily, the King knocked him out of it before it got too bad.

"I'm-" Toris gulps, forcing a smile onto his face. "I'm doing very well Ivan, how have you been?" The demon smiles at Ivan though it is clearly fake. Ivan giggles.

"I am decent," He giggles again, bringing a hand up to his mouth to hide his face. Toris gives out a shaky laugh, holding tight to the bucket of tools in his arms. He's a cleaner demon, under the physical torture branch. He washes the tools, making them shine for the demons who like to get bloody. Ivan hums.

"How is your new torturer doing?" He smiles. Toris jumps at the question, rattling the items in his bucket. He laughs awkwardly, gritting his teeth. Ivan simply watches him fluster.

"He's doing well, gaining confidence with me," Toris lets a genuine smile slip onto his face. Ivan's drops. Toris is his favorite toy. How could he leave Ivan for some low level demon in training. Toris glances up at him and his smile drops to a frightened expression. Ivan is scowling down at him, unimpressed with his answer. Toris begins to stammer, saying how his new torturer is fine but not as good. Ivan doesn't listen. He reaches out his arm fast, gripping tight to Toris's hair and banging his head to the side of the elevator. The bucket of tools drops, scattering the floor with knives and saws perfectly polished. Toris whimpers, writhing against the wall at the grip on his head. Ivan leans in close, his smile back on his face.

"I am glad you are liking your new friend," He giggles out when Toris whimpers once more. He makes no move to remove Ivan's hand. Ivan knows why. Toris likes pain. He expressed that very clearly to Ivan when he still had been just a young demon working the lower level rooms. Toris had been one of his first and longest lasting. Once or twice he even did what the demon asked, mixing his torture with the pleasure that Toris wanted. Ivan didn't really care for it, but Toris screamed, and he liked that.

"But," His smile drops once more. His eyes brighten dangerously at the fear crossing the little demon's face.

"No one will ever be as good as me," Ivan threatens. Toris twitches more and Ivan lets him go. He drops to the ground, curling himself up in the corner. The doors ding and Ivan steps out with a smile plastered back on his face. He drops his files back in the slot with his title written on it. He can see Arthur scolding Francis through the windows of the big office. He sneers. The demons around him notice the expression change and skitter away as fast as they can. Ivan stomps away.

It's true what he said to Toris. Ivan is the most skilled demon when it comes to torture. He didn't get the High Demon title for nothing. There is not a single soul in the entirety of Hell that can do what he does as well as he does. He knows more about technique and style and tools than any other demon to ever come through Hell. He's specialized in every aspect and can perform flawlessly. He didn't believe the words at first when Gilbert told him so. However, he had no reason to doubt otherwise. Some of the longer running demons had been upset when he got such a high position so quick, but they had to respect him. Ivan is the best. He'll just wait for Toris to figure that out and come back to him.

He likes Toris sure, but he does not feel romance for the demon. He doesn't feel lust either. He does feel possession. He wants to own Toris for himself. No one can play with his things. Toris is his. He grits his teeth hard. He's bitter. Some low demon, that Ivan probably tortured himself has managed to take his play things and he's not happy about it. He scratches at his arm dangerously. He can feel the metal of chains rippling beneath the skin. He doesn't take them out. He will be patient and wait for Toris to beg for him back. That is all he can do. Francis will punish him if he does not control his temper.

Threats don't usually affect him, but solitary confinement makes him uneasy. A small bubble of nausea forms in his stomach at the idea of wandering endlessly with nothing but his sick thoughts to guide and keep him company. Francis found that out after Ivan told him about his life. It's the one defense besides brute strength that Francis has over him. He doesn't entirely mind that. He knows about Francis's life too. He doesn't have real reason to harm the King. Besides, Francis comes to him if he wants pain. He's just a smidgen grateful that Gilbert hasn't told him about the electric chair. Ivan likes the chair, but it always jolts his mind back into his childhood. He laughs and cries when he's strapped down like that. He hates it. Ivan knows he's twisted. The therapists have said so. Both the ones in the human world and the demons he's met. Sociopathy is rare. Ivan doesn't really care.

He goes back to the torture rooms after an hour or so of pacing around the hallways. He visits the other few rooms that he's in charge in, dishing out more pain and taking pleasure in more screams. The screaming is his favorite. They all sound the same and yet are different. Some screams are high pitched and squeaky. Some are lower and partially gurgly. His favorite are the kind that Toris, and Matthew, make. Not too high, or too low, and flawless. He has found very few demons with screams like them, but he doesn't mind the variety. Arthur didn't have the pleasure of being his to torture, but he did sit in on the demon who got the chance. Arthur's screams are low, just a tich raspy. Ivan hadn't cared for them much, but he could see why Francis does.

Ivan washes his hand in the sink at the corner of the room. There's blood all over the floor from the cuts he made into the victim's chest area. They liked to stab people, so Ivan's job is to make him feel their pain. He hums to himself and leaves the person face down on the floor to maybe drown in their own fluids. Ivan unties his scarf from it's bow. It's the only thing he has from his human days. Very few demons have something like it. Matthew has his converse, and Arthur has his earrings. Some other demons he know mostly save their favorite piece of jewelry. Ivan never goes anywhere without his scarf.

It holds too many memories. Too many happy ones and the worst of the sad ones. It covers up his neck from the scars that would never heal from his human days. He could wish them away, but what would be the point? It'd take constant energy to hide them. The scarf is easier. He works hard to keep it the white color his mother first meant for it to be. It had been stained pink when Ivan first killed someone other than his father. He cried over the ruined fabric, but got over it when he couldn't get it out, turning the scarf a different color. The blood splatters kept coming, so he stopped bothering to wash it out completely. When he died, his age changed to his choice. Since his scarf had been from the human world too, it changed as well. Ivan wished for it to be the same as it had been at age seven. Pure as snow. Ivan took great care to keep it that way. He always tied it up and instantly removed any blood that could get close to it. It's easier to remove blood with magic over washing it.

Ivan goes back to his room and paces. He doesn't like to sleep. He has memories and dreams and flashbacks and he hates them all. He's not that person anymore. He's not even human. He doesn't need to sleep as much anymore being a demon. His body can survive without it. It needs a rest every now and then though. So he calms himself with pacing about. It's the most relaxing thing he can do besides go and sit in the waiting rooms and watch the horror in someone's face when they realize they are there to stay. Demons do need to sleep, just not as often. Lower level demons can last about a week before they start to feel the effects of fatigue. Ivan has been here long enough to handle the pressure. He can last nearly five months before he passes out.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. His blood trails from before are gone and the tears in his scalp are healed. He breaks them open again. The soft pain is relieving to him. It makes him feel at ease. He stops his walking and sinks to the floor. He doesn't use a bed. Too soft. He buries himself in his wings. For hours he lays curled up, doing his best not to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Ivan is bored. He yanks out a tooth of one of his victims. They scream for him a few hundred curse words. Ivan closes his eyes and listens to their pain. The human punched out people's teeth when they fought in the streets. Ivan is going to tear out his. He hums lowly. He wants something more right now. He drops the pliers to the table. The tooth clatters against the metal. He stares down the resident with a bleeding mouth. They are kicking at the ground, trying to kill their pain. Ivan raises an eyebrow at them. He has torn out every tooth in their mouth at least once already. He twists his nose and has an idea.

He sweeps out of the room and heads to the elevator. He walks through Hell, seeing how many demons he spots on his way to the welcome rooms. Just a few. There's no one once he gets closer to the entrance of Hell. He waves to Matthew, who gives him a skeptical look from his desk. Ivan walks past and into the waiting area. He walks through the crowds of people staring at him. Just at the far end of the room, there's another door that only those who have gone through Hell can see. An emergency exit of sorts. He pushes it open and leaves it propped just an inch. No one will notice it he's sure. He walks back into Hell with a smile on his face. Gilbert is sitting on Matthew's desk now, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Ivan simply giggles. Gilbert rolls his eyes and waves him off. Ivan walks back to the torture rooms.

His victim is still there. They're trying to keep tears out of their eyes. Ivan glares at them. He takes the pliers and rips out another tooth. They scream again. Ivan giggles uncontrollably. He doesn't stop laughing even as he takes the chains in his hands and they slither up onto his arms. He places a hand over his mouth to force the noise to stop as he walks out, leaving the door open just a hint. Now all he has to do is wait and see if the human takes the bait. He flies his way up to the top of the torture room, resting his elbows at the edge to see the door. He waits for a few hours. A demon or two walk by but they don't notice him or the door. Ivan kicks his legs back and forth behind him. The door opens.

Ivan blends into the blackness around him. The human hobbles out another step. He looks back and forth down the endless hallway. Ivan tilts his head to the side. The human hides back in the room. Ivan yawns. Boring. He's close to jumping down when the human emerges once again, this time holding a crowbar. Ivan breaks out with a wide smile. This is now interesting. His tail wavers in the air like a cat as he watches the human turn the wrong way. They notice when the numbers get bigger, stepping back towards his own room. A demon's steps are heard. The human dodges back into the room. Ivan can hear their heart beating fast. The lower demon passes without noticing. The human takes a chance and stumbles the way the demon had come.

Ivan follows silently, flying from room to room above his escaping human. They get to the elevator. Ivan can see them hesitate. It'll still be interesting if they turn around now. Before the human can react the doors ding. He presses himself to the side of it, stepping off the edge of the path some to hide more of his body. A demon steps out, her nose buried in a file. The human lunges into the elevator before it closes. Ivan starts to laugh. The girl demon drops her things up on seeing him above her. He giggles more, rolling onto his back. He laughs until his sides hurt. He jumps down and steps into the elevator himself.

He hits the greeting room button. When he gets off he doesn't see the human anywhere. He can faintly feel him. He walks through the halls towards Matthew. He finds the demon looking through a file, a human in front of him. The girl gives Ivan a horrified look. He smiles sweetly at her. Gilbert zips in, landing gracefully next to him.

"Now what the fuck are you up to?" He asks, not bothering to hide the distrust in his voice. Ivan giggles again. He can feel the human's presence more now. After spending some time with them, he can pick up on their soul. They are behind him and Gilbert somewhere, just behind the door, waiting for their moment to run.

"I'm bored," Ivan says with a smile. Gilbert raises his eyebrows. The old King waves the girl on and slips from the room with her following behind. Matthew rolls his eyes to the bickering and another human comes through the door. They glance between the two of them with scared eyes. Matthew holds out his hand and they step forward.

"Welcome to Hell," Matthew says with a smile. The person gulps and takes the seat Matthew gestures to. He takes the folder and reads over their reasoning. He sighs.

"Well Mrs Geovette," He glances up to her. She's wringing her hands together. Ivan turns his head to not laugh. Gilbert returns to the room. He leans against the wall with his arms crossed and an unamused expression on his face.

"Seems you got a little needle happy on more than just yourself. You will be sent to 20 years in sexual displeasure and then 10 years in physical torture. After that you will spend 10 years in the ghost rooms," Matthew smiles at her and hands back the file. She glares at him for a second and almost protests but Gilbert has a hand on her shoulder and a sinister smirk on his face. Her words catch and Gilbert leads her out of the room. Ivan smiles down at Matthew.

"Ivan what are you doing?" He asks with a soft smile. Ivan flicks his tail again. He turns his back to the door and keeps Matthew's attention on him. Matthew lifts the file into the air and it flies it's own way over to the filing cabinets.

"I got bored with my residents so I came to visit. There's a different kind of fear here," he muses. It's true. Here in the welcome rooms, the people are afraid of the unknown. They don't know what is going to happen. Then they get to their torture rooms and become afraid of the known, what is going to happen. Matthew sighs and Ivan can feel his victim skirt around the edge of the room, pressed tight to the wall. The door opens and a new human comes in. There's a pause. Matthew waves Ivan out of his way. Ivan backs away and Gilbert sides up next to him once again. The human steps forward, glancing at the door, on his way towards Matthew. Ivan can't stop his smile.

"Welcome to Hell," Matthew says, the same way he said it before. The human takes a seat, still glancing at the door behind him. Gilbert tilts his head to the side, used to people thinking of the room they just came from, but never that much.

"Mr Yortson, you have quite an impressive track record of manipulation," Matthew smiles up at him, and the smile slips. The human nods in a daze, swiveling his head to look behind him once more.

"Is something wrong Mr Yortson?" Matthew asks, folding his hands professionally on his desk. He's prepared to calm the human in case they fight the inevitable. Ivan bites his lip. This is so much fun. Gilbert rolls his eyes.

"No, yes, but.." The human trails off and wiggles in his chair to face the door. Matthew follows his gaze and so does Gilbert. The old King steps forward towards the door, moving to block the human should he try to leave. Ivan can feel the his escaped victim's soul, running through the waiting room, and out the door into the human world once more.

"Who was that man?" The human asks. Matthew narrows his eyes. Gilbert tenses. Ivan has to cover his mouth with a hand to keep from laughing.

"What man?" Gilbert spits out. The human jumps and faces him.

"There was a man, just at the door. He walked out when I walked in." Matthew's eyes widen and he jumps from his seat. Gilbert snarls and flies out the door. Ivan loses it. He doubles over, laughing loudly and covering his stomach with his arms. The action makes Matthew pause and Gilbert walk back into the room with a furious expression. Matthew blinks at him.

"Ivan," Matthew warns. He steps forward. Ivan is still laughing, wiping away tears from his eyes. Matthew doesn't get the chance to ask another question. Gilbert flashes forward, grabbing Ivan by the collar and lifting him off the ground.

" _What did you do fuckface_?" Ivan sputters out another giggle. He can't fight Gilbert. The old King is still stronger than him. Doesn't mean he can't laugh at his angry expression. Ivan covers his face with his hands. Matthew sighs.

"Ivan what is-" A siren sounds out. A loud blaring noise. Ivan is dropped to the ground. He lands with a thud and pushes his palms to his mouth to stop his noise. Matthew freaks out, telling the human to stay put. He snaps ropes around his wrists to be sure. He flies from the room. As soon as he's gone, Gilbert bursts out into cackles. He leans back and lands on his back with a bang. He kicks his legs up in the air. Ivan allows himself to be heard. He throws back his head and lets it pour out. This is already far more interesting than he ever could have thought.

"Oh son of a bitch that's so fucking great, you messed up piece of shit this is awesome!" Gilbert wheezes out between his guffaws. Ivan pushes himself to his feet to leans against his knees. He bites his lip to try and stop but it doesn't work. The human is flickering his eyes between them in terror. The sirens stop. He's still giggling when Matthew comes back with Francis.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say Ivan is responsible for the alarm going off?" Francis deadpans. Gilbert is pointing at him now, trying to sputter out an answer but after every syllable he can't continue. Matthew huffs and kicks him lightly in the chest. Ivan stands up as best he can. He nods his head for Francis to see. The King of Hell sighs.

"Ivan do you know how dangerous it is to let a human leave Hell once they have entered?" Francis pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Ivan nods his head. He knows exactly what will happen. The human's psyche won't be able to handle the normality of the living world. They will look like an escapist from a mental hospital. With them coming from Hell, they might as well be. They will hurt more people and get the cops called on them for sure. They will think everyone is a demon in disguise. They will be sentenced to death. They won't be able to die again. Ivan is so excited. Francis sighs again.

"Gilbert if I may ask of you to look over things and settle the others down while I handle this?" The King is rubbing at his temples now. Gilbert waves him off and skips through the door to start barking orders. The demons are all in a rut, just minorly freaking out about the warning sirens. It could have meant anything for them. Angels could have been attacking for all they know.

"Ivan," the King's voice is cold. Ivan bites his tongue to maybe hide his smile. Francis is glaring at him.

"You will be coming with me to retrieve the human." Ivan's smile brightens at the order. He nods his head with a giggle. He's so excited to go to the surface. Francis rolls his eyes. They head towards the elevator, hitting the button to bring them to the top. Ivan is giddy. The doors open and the fresh open air of the living fills his senses. Francis grimaces and stomps out, taking to the sky. Ivan follows suit. They make themselves invisible to the humans in the setting sun. Ivan senses out the human's soul when Francis orders him to. It's not too hard to zero in on him. He's running through the street, skidding to stops in front of random people and screaming, then running in the opposite direction. Ivan smirks.

He drops to the ground, Francis follows after him. Ivan giggles. He materializes in front of the human for a second, just long enough for them to see him. As soon as the human is scrambling away he disappears. Francis stops in front of him next, pushing the human farther and farther away from the living and towards a secluded area. They take turns, scaring the human out of his mind. They need to get him away from the crowds to guide him to Hell without others seeing. He enters a park. Ivan stops in front of him, this time completely solid. The human screams and tries to skid away, but Ivan grabs his hand. He smiles sweetly at the human. He grips his hand tight, making him yell out. Francis comes closer, spreading his arms to call the elevator to him.

"What is _going on_ here?" The sudden voice makes both demons turn to the sky. Two angels descend on them. Francis forces a polite smile on his face, dropping his hands. The trip home can wait. He gives a side glare to Ivan. He giggles and looks back to the human.

"Good evening," Francis greets, stepping towards the angels once they land. Ivan keeps his eyes on the human now. The human is struggling against him. He doesn't mind. The human is nothing compared to him.

"A human escaped Hell, we were just retrieving them," Francis says curtly. Ivan's smile turns sinister at the rising fear in the human's face.

"How does a human escape Hell so easily?" Ivan recognizes the voice of Natalia, the High Angel that deals with demons when they overstep their boundaries in the living world. He's dealt with her before. She's cold. He likes her. She doesn't like him.

"Apparently," Francis growls in his direction. Ivan peeks over his shoulder to smile at him.

"One of my demons thought it would be funny," Francis's tone is strained. He's trying too hard to be collected. Ivan giggles again.

"I was right~" He sings out, laughing more. He hears Francis sigh. Seeing everyone so flustered over his actions is some of the most fun he's ever had. Even angels had to come to see what happened. When it's silent for too long, Ivan blinks innocently at them all. Francis has a hand to his head with a grimace on his face. Natalia is glaring, not looking at him. Her wings are large, close to his in size. The tips are black. The other angel makes him pause. Their jaw is slightly dropped and they are giving him an incredulous expression. Their wings are bigger than Natalia's, closer in size to Francis's. They are streaked with gold.

"Fredka!" Ivan smiles widely. He grips the humans hand as tight as he can forcing out a crunch. The human screams out from having the bones broken, his hand now a mangled mess. Ivan drops him to let him writhe on the ground in pain. He skips over to stand right in front of the High Archangel. Alfred glares at him when he comes closer, narrowing his sky blue eyes in anger. Ivan giggles.

"I never had the chance to congratulate you," He claps his hands together like a child. Alfred twitches. It's been nearly 70 years since he's see the angel. The last time he did, Alfred had only been in training to become the High Archangel. He smiles wider and slips his tail around him to wrap around Alfred's leg. The angel doesn't react.

"Congratulations~" Ivan coos softly, hiding his face in his scarf. Natalia sneers at him. Alfred scoffs and detangles himself from the pointed tail, stepping away from the demon.

"Francis," He says sharply. The King looks up tiredly. Ivan giggles again.

"Control your demons," Alfred warns darkly. Francis forces a smile that fades the moment the angels are on their way back up to Heaven. Ivan watches them. Their white wings contrast harshly against the dark blue sky. Francis hits him on the back of his head.

"Ridiculous," Francis snaps at him. Ivan bites his lip to try and stop his laughter. He rubs at his head. The hit didn't hurt, but it gives him something to do with his hands. They grab the human by the arms. Francis spreads his palm wide and raises it to the sky. The elevator rumbles up through the ground and dings open. They step inside still holding tight to the human. Ivan is humming. He loves all the chaos he's caused. The human's nerves are shot.

Ivan is ordered to bring the human back to his room. He does so promptly. He chains the human back the chair. Tears are running down his face. Ivan scowls. He makes the chains extra tight. Outside the room Francis is waiting with his arms crossed. Ivan opens his mouth to speak but Francis raises his hand to stop him. He waves Ivan to follow. The torture demon sighs and does what he's asked. Francis guides him to a solitary confinement room near the end of the path. Kiku is waiting there with his hands folded in front of him professionally. Ivan likes Kiku. He's quiet and very polite. He would like to hear the High Demon of Solitary Confinement scream though. His horns are little corkscrews on the side of his head, and his wings are very long, but very thin. Ivan has a strained smile on his face.

Kiku guides him inside and shuts the door with a bang. Ivan takes a deep breath. He should have figured this would come. Francis had been furious. He caused quite the scandal willingly letting out a human fully aware of the precautions. It's only logical he would get punished. He just wonders how long it will be until he's let out. When he rampaged the first time, he had been punished with confinement for half a year. He knows Gilbert had to, just as he knows now that Francis has to. He can't get away with it. If Francis let him off the hook the other demons would riot. Most likely. Even Ivan didn't want that. There would be no order anymore.

He wanders about in the darkness having nothing better to do. He paces back and forth. He spins in slow circles with his arms and wings out. He's still unsure how the room works. Maybe it's a trick of the mind. He keeps his wings out most of the time. It feels better. He hums to himself as well. Anything to keep himself occupied. After walking for what seems like forty days, Ivan can't keep walking. He drops to his knees. He lays on his stomach with his cheek to the floor. He focuses on breathing. He doesn't want to fall asleep. He doesn't know what his mind will create in the darkness. He doesn't want to go through an after nightmare daze in this room.

_"IVAN!" He snaps his head to the door. As quick as he can he jumps from his bed. He locks the door and pushes his dresser up against it. He yelps when a bang jiggles the door handle. He backs away, scrambling onto his bed in the corner._

_"Where are you little rat?!" He bite his lip and pulls his legs up close. Another bang on the door. He clenches his eyes tight. Another bang._

_"Open this door!" Ivan shakes his head even though no one can see him. He folds in on himself as tight as he can. He covers his ears with his hands. Tears are slowly making their way down his face. He didn't mean to not clean the dishes. They slipped his mind when he pulled the weeds and washed the car. He's shaking now. The bangs are still coming. They don't stop for an hour. Everyday he hides. He doesn't want to get hit. Not again. It hurts. It hurts so much. It stings and burns and leaves a welt. It's hard to hide when it's on his face. He cries silently as the banging slowly comes to a stop. The insults are gone._

_He knows his father doesn't like him. He tries so hard to be in his good graces. He's apologized so many times for killing his mother, for not being good enough. His father never listened. Ivan couldn't do anything right. He blamed himself for it all. He wraps his arms around his legs and cries into his knees. The house is silent. It takes another hour until Ivan can make out his father snoring. He breathes a sigh of relief. He sneaks out of his room and to the kitchen. As quietly as he can he grabs food and dives back into his room. He holds his breath until the snoring reaches his ears. He pushes his dresser back in front of the door. He eats his small sandwich slowly. It hurts to move sometimes._

_There's a tapping at his window. Ivan fumbles at the noise. He twists around and falls to the ground with a thump. He whimpers. He holds still, eyes widening in horror, hoping he didn't wake his father. He almost cheers when the snoring continues. He crawls to his feet and to the window. His friend is there, covering his mouth to stop his giggling at Ivan's graceful floor hug. Ivan flips the lock, pushing the window up with a huff._

_"What are you doing here?" He hisses when the window is cracked open. He can't open it all the way. His friend is loud and that means waking up. He doesn't want that. His friend giggles again._

_"I came to see.. You." His friend's smile falls. Ivan scrunches up his face, then covers his red cheek. He forgot about it for a second. His father hit him earlier. Ivan crawled to his room while the man got more alcohol. He didn't mean for his friend to see it. He thought it might be invisible in the darkness._

_"Ivan what happened?" His friend asks full of worry. He leans closer to the window, placing his hand against it. Ivan cringes. He shakes his head. He doesn't want to talk about it. His friend huffs. Ivan places his other hand to the window against his friend's._

_"My family is moving," His friend whispers. Ivan whines. His friend can't leave. He's the only friend Ivan's ever had. They belong together._

_"I don't want to. I want to stay with you," His friend narrows his eyes, face twisted up in a pout. Ivan glances at the door. His father is still snoring. He lifts the window just a little higher so he can hold his friend's hand comfortably. They lace their fingers together._

_"Ivan will I ever see you again?" Ivan gulps, caught off guard by the sadness in his friend's blue eyes. He's never seen him sad. He's always been happy and kind and Ivan can feel his heart hurting. Ivan lowers his eyes. He doesn't know if he'll ever see him again. There is a good chance he never will. His friend puffs up._

_"That's not fair," He growls. Ivan shushes him. His friend shakes his head and speaks quieter._

_"It's not fair that I met you and now I can't keep you." Ivan clenches his eyes shut. This is the angriest he's ever heard his friend. Ivan knows how he feels though. He doesn't want his friend to leave. He doesn't want to lose him. He belongs to Ivan._

_"Ivan can I kiss you one more time?" He snaps his eyes up to meet his friend's, their face twisted into determination._

_"What? But you-" The words get stuck. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish. They only kissed that one time on the cliff. Ivan hides his face in his scarf._

_"Please? I don't know when I'll be able to see you again," His friend leans closer whispering the words. Ivan bites his lip. He glances up to scan their face then nods. Carefully and quietly, Ivan lifts the window as high as he can. His friend gives him a sad smile and angles closer inside the window. Ivan inhales gently and leans forward to-_

He wakes up screaming into the blackness. He tries to move but the room has shrunk to his body. Ivan twitches on the ground, his neck aching from the position. He lifts his head up and it bangs against the edge of the walls around him. He groans and flops back down. He pulls his wings as close as he can. He tenses up his muscles and relaxes. He bangs his head up against the walls edge a few more times. Anything to bring pain to his skull. He groans again. He didn't want to sleep. He's done too much of that already.

He doesn't know how long he waits on the ground. He's sure the wall won't move until he goes back to sleep. And he hates that. He struggles and claws as best he can against the floor. He presses his back against the container and screams in anger. He hates solitary. He manages to twist his neck to the other side. Small relief comes from the change. He glares into the darkness. His thoughts are racing. Every time he sleeps he gets flashbacks. They've been tame nightmares so far. He knows a vicious dream is coming.

He keeps his thoughts on what he's going to do to his residents when he's released. He does want to practice bone breaking again. It's very difficult to break every bone individually. Maybe he will do some metal work on one of them. He likes the way metal marks bodies when it's left in to inflame the skin. He takes a deep breath and waits. It's a month later and he's twitching. Maybe he could sleep to relieve the pain of laying down. Only for a second. He could try to wake himself up. Maybe. He closes his eyes again. He thinks of blue eyes to try and keep his dream mostly innocent. He hasn't thought about those eyes willingly in years. He hates them. They haunt him.

_Ivan has his eyes shut tight. Small tears are slipping through despite his efforts to stop them. His hands are tied together with shoe string. He's shaking. This position hurts. He's on his knees in the middle of the living room. He has to keep his back as straight as possible as his knees dig into the tile floor. It hurts. He can hear heavy steps walking around the house and around him. They fumble and run into things. Drunk. Ivan refuses to look. He doesn't turn his head even as the footsteps make their way in front of him. He tries hard to stop his shaking._

_"Fuckin-hic," The voice above him says. Ivan doesn't move. He bites the inside of his lip to keep from making any noise. He can't afford to make his father any more furious than he is right now._

_"Lift your ugly head," Ivan obeys. He stretches his neck up as high as he can. A slap echoes through the house and deep seated sting is burning at his face. More tears are slipping through and no matter how hard he tries to stop them, they keep coming._

_"Fucking crying you little-" Another slap to the other cheek. He holds his head as high as possible still. There's more muttered curses. Ivan suddenly has hair pulled. It hurts. He lets out a whine. This makes the hand on his hair tighten with a growl. He's shaking hard. The hand lets go and he fumbles down. He quickly moves back to his straight postured position. His knees hurt. He can hear metal clinking. He tenses as he realizes what's going to happen. He gulps just a second before the collar is wrapped around his neck. It's suffocating but he doesn't cough. He doesn't struggle. He won't be able to survive the beating if he does._

_"Walk," The word is hissed. Ivan drops his hands to the ground just as he's ordered to do. Once he's sure his face is to the ground does he open his eyes. He can see the muddy tips of his father's boots. There's a tugging and the prongs on the inside of the collar spike against his throat. His father pulls the chain leash. Ivan struggles to get his leg to move forward. The muscles are tight. He manages to wiggle his legs forward and start the process. He crawls around the house with his father behind him pulling at the collar, making it harder and harder for him to breathe comfortably._

_He stumbles down a step and his father yanks him back. He lands on his back with a thwack. He shuts his eyes tight once more. He doesn't want to see the disappointment on his father's face. He's seen it too much already. His father kicks his stomach and Ivan curls in on himself. It hurts. The kicking doesn't stop. Not until Ivan is crying out loud and screaming for his father to stop. He get's one kick to the head. It jogs his brain and makes him dizzy. He lays limp on the ground. He can hear his father stepping away from him. He struggles, every inch of his fourteen year old body hurting. He stumbles into his room and locks the door. He manages to push a dresser in front of his door just as his father yells out, asking where he is. Ivan doesn't answer. He lays against the dresser on the floor as his father bangs towards him. Ivan won't let him in. Ivan never let him in. He won't dare to open the door when the last time he opened the door to his father's threats he got beat within an inch of his life._

_For an hour the door rattles and the insults come. Ivan knows he's a horrible child for disobeying his father. He knows he's a rotten spoiled child who should be thankful to be living. He knows it's his fault the world is a mess even though he hasn't left this little town in years. It's his fault. It's always his fault. Ivan lets his tears fall quietly, he barely flinches as a bottle breaks against the floor. He'll clean it up later while his father sleeps. He can't move now. He can't find the effort to lift his head. He can't move. He's stuck. There's no room. He can't. He-_

Ivan's crying when he wakes up. The room is wide again and he can sit up. He flips to his back. Mechanically he sits up. The tears on his cheeks feel odd. He doesn't remember the last time he cried. Probably the last time he went into solitary confinement. He wipes the offensive proof of emotion off his face. He brings his legs up close to his body. He covers his ears with his hands, trying hard not to cut his palms. He rocks back and forth with his eyes shut tight. His wings wrap around him to hide him even more in the darkness. He begins to scratch his nails into his scalp. He slices his skin open. The blood dripping down his head. He can clean it up later. The pain is welcome.

Without warning he begins to laugh. It's quiet at first, then it gets louder, rumbling through his chest and out. It's a forced noise, pushed out roughly. He doesn't care. He laughs until his sides hurt, until his head hurts. His body is shaking. He twists to his knees and bangs his fist on the ground. He claws at it. He keeps laughing. He's twitching violently. This is why he hates sleep. No matter what he does. His dreams always come and they always make him violent. He wants to hurt someone. He wants to hurt. He scratches at his arms making them bleed too. The relief only lasts a second. He keep scratching. Only when he feels like passing out from blood loss does he stop. He wavers side to side. He puts his head to the ground and breathes slowly. He will not fall asleep again. He will not subject himself to that pain again.

When his head is clear and he licks his wounds to sear them together, he stands. It's hard with nothing to brace himself against. He manages just fine. He walks on. It doesn't matter how tired he gets, he keeps going. He refuses to lose his open space and refuses to subject himself to more memories. His legs are stinging. His feet are heavy. He drops to his knees and wheezes. He puts his hands to his head and scratches again. The more pain he feels the more awake he feels.

The door opens and he's disoriented. He brings his wings in close so he can to shield himself from the light. Someone steps forward and into his field of vision. He can recognize Matthew's soft smile. The greeter helps him to his feet and out of the room. Ivan's head hurts. Matthew guides him through a secluded part of Hell so the other demons don't see him in a weak state. They wouldn't be able to handle the High Demon of Torture looking the way Ivan does. Matthew sits him in a chair in a room far off from the others. He runs his fingers through Ivan's hair sealing the wounds up. He takes a wet rag and cleans off some of the dried blood.

"Do you need to talk about it?" Matthew asks softly. Ivan just blinks his eyes lazily. He feels a bit numb. He shakes his head, then nods it. He shuts his eyes tight.

"I don't like to dream." He bites out. Matthew nods his head in understanding. Ivan is not the only demon who refuses to sleep, though the others are not in as stressful jobs. Ivan curls his arms around him. Like snakes his chains slither out of his arms and around his body to hold him tight. Matthew massages his scalp soothingly. Ivan feels weak. He hates crying and he hates losing his mind and he hates his skin and he hates his father and he hates blue eyes and he hates himself. The spike of emotion dies as quickly as it came. His body numbs and so does his mind. He's fine. He's okay now.

His eyes get foggy. He's done being a mess. He shakes his head, removing Matthew's fingers from it. The chains zip back to their spots. He stands up and smiles at Matthew.

"I am fine now little Matvey," He keeps his smile on even though Matthew cringes. The greeter asks him a few more times if he's sure he's fine. Ivan is. Being able to breathe new air and see the ends to a room makes him feel better. He hasn't forgotten about his breakdown or his dreams, but they don't seem to matter as much anymore. He leaves a baffled Matthew to return to work. He walks through the workroom like nothing ever happened. He smiles sweetly at the demons who stare at him. Francis gives him a warning glance through the window. Ivan just giggles.

He spent five months in solitary. It felt like much longer. He greets his residents with a smile. They had been under the care of his second in command while he couldn't. He's a little disappointed in the work done, but it'll do. He uses wire to sew one of his resident's legs together to form a twisted mermaid tail. He almost wonders if it'll work in water. Probably not, but it would be fun to see them drown. He sews their fingers together too.

He's able to remove some of his own torture energy on a resident who decided beating his mother and sister into submission would be fun. Ivan chains him to the ceiling in the middle of the room and takes his pipe to the skin. He beats the boy hard. He hits every ounce of skin he can see and more. He smiles at the screams being let out. They sound like music. Halfway through beating him Ivan begins to laugh. When his victim starts to shout out how crazy he is, it makes him laugh harder. Crazy. He's heard that term so many times before. Nearly everyone he's ever come in contact with has called him that. It's a second name by now.

He throws himself into working. He takes hour breaks between every room to pace and think about what he could do to the next victim. He keeps going. For months he subjects himself to the torment of others. It clears his mind and keeps him from doing anything else reckless to end him in solitary again. Only when Francis calls him to his office does he take a long break. He gets the memo from a lower level demon in passing. He heads to the office and knocks politely on the door. Arthur opens it.

"Ah good afternoon Ivan," He says with a smile. Ivan nods courteously to him. Arthur steps out and Ivan steps in. Francis is sitting on his desk flipping through a random file and chewing on a pen. Ivan walks closer and takes a seat in one of the chairs across from the King.

"How did your time in confinement go?" Francis asks mindlessly, not looking up from his papers. Ivan smiles to himself. He considers Francis his friend of sorts. The King is kind to him, more than others at least.

"Very well," He says with a giggle. It did go well. He hurt. That's the point of torture. Francis sighs and places his file on the desk. He regards Ivan with a serious expression.

"You do realize the severity of what you did right?" His tone is dark, warning Ivan to not say the wrong thing. This put a lot of pressure on him from the angels and the demons.

"Yes, and I will not do it again," Ivan smiles brightly up at him. Francis glares for a moment, his eyes flashing threateningly. He shakes his head and gives a strained smile.

"Please don't. You made a very big mess." Ivan pouts at that. He doesn't really like messes. He's kind of sad to have caused one. He stands.

"Francis, if I may, can I have permission to go to the surface?" He smiles sweetly. Francis raises an eyebrow at him.

"And do what exactly?" Francis crosses his ankles. Ivan hums in thought.

"There is a little town I wish to visit, I do not wish to interact with any humans while I'm there." Ivan informs him. He folds his hands in front of him. Francis taps his pen to his lips. He stares at Ivan for a minute before sighing.

"No human interaction and back in the morning to keep working." Francis slips off his desk and walks around to his chair. He flops in and waves Ivan off. Ivan giggles and thanks the King nicely. He practically skips to the elevator. A new button shows at the top signaling the surface world. He presses the button excitedly. He snaps his fingers on the way up. His dark jeans change to a fresh pair and his boots change to a simple pair of gym shoes. His black shirt changes into a soft long sleeve one. He rubs his hands over his scarf, collecting any blood drips that may have got on it. He flicks away the specks.

The elevator dings and opens up to the same area they left earlier. Ivan spins around in the park, his scarf twirling around him. He jump off the ground, his wings catching him in the air and propelling him upward. He soars through the sky, making himself invisible to the human eyes. The sky is darkening around him. He flips onto his back, touching the clouds above. He knows he's close to angel territory, but they always stay higher up in the clouds. He laughs and bends back, letting his weight drag him towards earth. He stops himself before he gets too low. He passes over tall buildings and landscapes. He flies for two hours.

He drops to the ground at the edge of his old little town. The town has been recently redone and fixed up. New buildings have sprouted up. He walks slowly through the darkened town. There are no humans awake. He passes by his old home. He momentarily debates setting it on fire. He can feel souls inside, innocent ones. Francis beat it into him to not harm innocence. He will respect the wish of his King. He's hurt enough innocent people.

He wanders through the forest area. The trees seem so small now that he's grown. He steps on branches making them crack. He shivers. He's not cold. He comes to a small rocky hill. He grabs a rock up high and hoists himself up with a single pull. He walks on slower now. He can see the sky peeking out behind the leaves. He steps right up to the ledge. The sky shines down on him. The stars are everywhere. Just like before, the town doesn't give off enough light to hinder star gazing. Ivan keeps his eyes on the twinkling lights as he sits down, dangling his legs off the edge. The stream below is bubbling. Ivan tosses a rock into it.

Memories come flooding back to him. He had been so small and pudgy. Toddling around town with a smile on his face and dark thoughts nowhere near him. So innocent and sweet. He remembers snow falling and feeling more at home than he had since he first came to the little town. He ran around with his cheeks puffed red. He wore a simple light jacket those days. Everyone called him crazy, but Ivan felt alive. Snow had been his home.

He closes his eyes and thinks hard. He snaps his fingers and a soft purple mist envelops him. He can feel it contorting his body. He opens his eyes and looks down at his little seven year old sausage fingers. He closes and opens his hands, feeling odd in the small body. His clothes have changed back to small jeans and a puffy little jacket like the one he used to wear. He glances up at the sky, still feeling the same small size even when bigger. Nothing ever changed about the sky. That's what Ivan liked about it.

"What are you doing here?" He snaps his head around to face the voice. Instantly his child façade disappears. The purple mist puffs up around him and he's big again, staring wide eyed at Alfred. The High Archangel is wearing a simple pair of light blue jeans and a long sleeved white shirt. His white wings are bright contrasting the dark green of the trees behind him. His arms are crossed and there's a scowl on his face. Ivan smiles gently at him.

"Do you ever feel really small even though you are really big?" Ivan faces away from him and back to the sky. He leans back on his hands, spreading his wings across the ground. He hums softly to himself. He hears Alfred huff and come closer. The High Archangel drops down next to him. Alfred pulls his legs up to his chest and hugs them to him. He's looking at the sky too.

"Why are you here Ivan?" Alfred asks quietly. Ivan giggles. He likes Alfred. The angel doesn't like to put up with him. He thinks it's fun.

"Visiting~" He sings out. He kicks his legs back and forth much like a five year old. Alfred sighs and releases his legs now sitting criss cross. He leans back on his hands too. Ivan closes his eyes and hums a happy tune. It's been a long time since he's been in this spot. It's been his favorite star gazing spot since first introduced to him. No matter where he went, nothing could compare.

"I haven't been here in so long." Alfred muses. Ivan stops his hums to giggle. Alfred lives in the clouds, he could see the world from up there. He can see thousands of stars for miles and miles. He's confused as to why Alfred just didn't stay up there.

"Why are you here Fredka?" The angel tenses at the use of the nickname. Ivan brings his hands to his stomach not removing his stare from the angel. Alfred wrings his hands together in his lap.

"Saw you flying, had to make sure you weren't doing something stupid." Alfred mumbles at the ground. Ivan giggles, hiding his smile in his scarf.

"I think you are lying," Ivan teases, his Russian accent thickening in his words. Alfred scoffs and stands up.

"I think you deserved to go to Hell." The angel turns abruptly. Ivan can't help but laugh. He deserved to go to Hell that he knows. It's obvious to him.

"You are just like me Fredka," Ivan says softly. He doesn't look behind him to see the fiery expression he knows is on Alfred's face. Even though he says it quietly, it's silent enough for any words to be heard between them.

" _What_." Alfred's tone is dark. Ivan smiles and peeks over his shoulder. He's right. Alfred is glowering at him, his blue eyes burning. Ivan beats his wings once to lift him to his feet.

"You are cold, and harsh, and ruthless." With every word Ivan takes a step closer to the fuming angel. He stops just a foot away.

"We just have different outlets," Ivan smiles down at him. Alfred is shooting daggers at him. Ivan is lucky Alfred doesn't materialize his holy sword and strike him down. He's enjoying how much he bugs the Archangel. It must bug him how right Ivan is. They are the same. Their mindsets are no different. Ivan craves control. Alfred craves power.

"I wish you never moved away," Ivan says gently, his smile falling away. His expression softens into something close to honesty. He truly wishes Alfred never moved out of town all those years ago. The angel doesn't move, still regarding him with a furious expression.

"It would have been you," he whispers. Alfred shows no hint of changing emotion. Ivan turns back around and heads to the ledge. He stands with his toes nearly hanging off. Maybe if things had been different and Alfred never left him, he could have been better. He could have been more stable in his mind. That's not how life works though. His thoughts drove him to ruin while Alfred used his to better the world around him. He hears footsteps behind him coming closer. He smiles, positive that Alfred will run a sword through his chest, ripping his soul to shreds and killing him permanently. Maybe that would be a welcome change. To never be able to see the light of day again.

"Can I kiss you?" Ivan snaps around so fast he almost falls off the cliff. He blinks wide eyed at Alfred behind him, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. Ivan doesn't know how to react. Right now he's seven years old again. Right now he's innocent and sweet and only has one friend in the world. Right now he doesn't know if he's dreaming.

"What? But you-" Ivan doesn't know what to say. His mind has gone blank. Alfred can't do that. He hides his face in his scarf and glares at the ground. Alfred huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

"It won't change anything." He says bitterly. Ivan glances at him and his puffed up expression. He steps closer to him.

"If I do, what happens to-"

"Absolutely nothing. It changes nothing about how I feel for you and it changes nothing about me or my position." Alfred hisses out, turning his eyes viciously to Ivan who is now smiling down at the pouting angel.

"How does Fredka feel for me?" He asks teasingly. Ivan takes another step closer, and so does Alfred. The angel glares at him.

"I don't." He snaps. Ivan giggles. He takes one last step towards the angel. They are less than a foot away from each other. Alfred's blue eyes are hiding none of his distaste for Ivan. Ivan smiles down at him. The angel huffs and uncrosses his arms. He takes one small step to bring them even closer. Ivan's smile falls. He's hit with the sudden remembrance as to why he hates the angel's eyes. It's cause he can't have them. They don't belong to him. Alfred is not his toy. Those eyes will never plead for him. They will never beg him to stop. He inhales and Alfred's lips crash onto his. His tail has a mind of it's own, wrapping one of the angel's legs in a vice grip. Other than that, the two make no move to touch each other, arms at their sides.

They pull away sharply, but stay close, their breath intermingling. Ivan opens his eyes and to stare down at the angry angel. He smiles. He's never had such a strong urge to possess. Sure he's wanted to keep Matthew around to hear him scream. He wanted Toris to stay so he could be Ivan's toy. But Alfred? He wants to lock him away and let no one see him ever again. For his eyes only. The angel belongs to him.

Ivan doesn't feel sexual wanting often, barely ever. He never questioned it. The thought of taking Alfred for his own though has his blood rushing through his veins. He leans down and kisses Alfred harshly once more. The angel doesn't push him away. His hands are balled into fists at his sides. He's wanted to see that pretty little smile break for so long. He wants to control everything about him. He wants to own the angel. Somewhere in his mind, he can tell Alfred feels the same, only he wants to lock Ivan away from everyone else instead. He growls into the angel's lips, causing him to pull back.

They stand there, close in each other's presence, not touching. Ivan's tail releases it's death grip on Alfred's leg leisurely. They lean their heads next to each other, barely touching. Ivan can feel the angel's breath on his neck, slipping past his scarf. He grits his teeth. He turns his head towards the angel and Alfred hisses pulling back suddenly. He puts a hand to his cheek and cringes. Ivan tilts his head to the side. Alfred removes his hand to show a shallow cut across his cheek. Ivan's eyes widen and he smiles brightly. His horn cut the angel's cheek. For the first time, Ivan reaches for Alfred, grabbing his face and avoiding the cut. He brings the angel's face close and licks up the line of blood agonizingly slow, enjoying the mewls Alfred is letting out in pain. The angel snatches Ivan's scarf and pulls it, angling the demon closer just slightly. The metallic taste of blood does nothing to quell Ivan's desperate need to claim the angel.

Alfred steps away the moment the cut is healed. Ivan runs his tongue over his teeth. There's a near invisible line of the High Archangel's cheek. Ivan loves it. It's his own claim on the angel. No one else can have him. Alfred rubs his face to remove Ivan from it. The demon doesn't mind. He knows what happened, and so does Alfred. He takes a step back closer to the edge.

"I do not love Fredka," Ivan says simply, taking more steps away from the angel. The sun will be rising and he needs to head back down. Alfred glares at him, unfazed by what Ivan just told him.

"You can always come and be mine though," Ivan smiles widely. He doesn't expect Alfred to take up the offer. The angel sneers, his blue eyes narrowing at the idea.

"Never in a million years," He snarls. Ivan giggles and claps his hands together like a child. He's at the edge of the cliff now. Alfred is still standing near the trees.

"Then I will see you in a million and one," He giggles once more and falls back off the cliff. He smiles at the concern he sees in Alfred's blue eyes as he hits the ground and sinks through. He doesn't like Alfred, but there is something about the way his cold eyes hold fire that make Ivan want to hold him tight and break his spine. He wants to see that angry expression only for him. Alfred belongs to him, just as much as Ivan belongs to the angel.

Ivan drops. The earth moves around him. He lands in his room with a bang. He sits up directly, a wide smile on his face. He giggles to himself in his room. The taste of Alfred's blood still on his teeth. He heads out and snaps his fingers. His long sleeves shorten and his typical black jeans reappear. His boots lace up his legs as he makes his way towards Francis's office. He grabs his files and knocks on the door of the King. There's a muffled yell. Ivan opens the door. Arthur is sitting on Francis's lap in the large armchair behind the desk.

"Ah! Thank you sir for letting me visit the surface~" He sings out. Francis laughs and waves him on. Ivan closes the door and hums his way to the elevator. He goes about the rest of his day in a delightful mood. Trying to create bruises on his residents that resembles certain blue eyes. It's a fruitless effort but that doesn't stop him from trying.

* * *

Ivan smiles to himself as he bangs another nail into the skull of a victim. Their yells have turned to a garbled mess and their limbs are twitching violently. When Ivan taps certain nails he feels like a puppet master with the way the human flops about. It makes him giggle. He's tempted to call Gilbert so he can see. The old King would get a kick out of it for sure. He finishes up and washes his hands in the sink. He puts his hands to his scarf to collect the blood from it, rinsing it down the drain. He unties the bow around his back to let the ends flow behind him.

He exits with a soft click. He walks to the elevator. It opens with a ding and he presses the surface button. It takes him up high and to the outskirts of a small little town in the middle of nowhere. He wanders through the darkened streets, completely unafraid of someone seeing him. He trudges through the woodland area. He comes to a rock hill and flaps his wings once to raise himself above them. He walks the rest of the way to a cliff with an excellent view of the stars.

Sitting on the edge is an angel with large white wings and golden marks running through the feathers. Ivan steps forward and makes himself comfortable next to Alfred. They say nothing. No words are needed. It's been ten years since their rekindling. Once a year, they spend a winter night on the edge of the cliff looking at the stars like they are seven years old again. When the sun comes up, Ivan drops through the earth and Alfred takes for the sky.

Alfred huffs and snatches Ivan's hand, lacing their fingers together. Ivan giggles, hiding his face in his scarf. It's such a simple thing, yet it's one of the few that make him feel like he owns the angel. He hums lowly, smiling at the stars. Alfred scoffs at him. He giggles once again. Maybe Alfred is right. Maybe he did deserve to go to hell, but that's okay with him. For just one night, the dreams do not come, and he can have the one thing he's always craved.


End file.
